Buck swore as he tore around the corner of the building after Casey.
He'd thought he had a bead on the young girl as she ran through the
crowd of people and animals that thronged on Four Corners' sidewalks,
but as he faced the main street he looked quickly left, right, then left
again, and didn't see her. He clutched the skirt Casey had torn - and
thrown at him - and grunted in frustration. Blast! How could such a
little girl cover so much ground in such a hurry?
Determined, he scanned the street again, and caught sight of Mrs.
Potter, the woman who ran the general store where he’d bought Casey's
pretty new outfit. The woman had a broom in her hand, but Buck noticed
she was looking into the store quizzically. He smiled and trotted over
to her.
"Ma'am," he said quickly, tugging at the brim of his hat.
"Mr. Wilmington!" Mrs. Potter said, looking at him in confusion. "What happened? Miss Wells just ran in here without her - "
"Uh, slight mishap there, Mrs. Potter," Buck said apologetically,
showing her the ripped waistline, "Now do you think you could mend this
for me?"
Mrs. Potter leaned the broom against the wall and took the skirt from
Buck, examining it closely. "Certainly, Mr. Wilmington."
"Much obliged." Buck flashed a smile at her and hurried into the
store.
It was dim in the little general goods shop, but Buck cut a beeline to
the back storeroom where, just a few minutes before, Casey had shed the
practical overalls and wide-brimmed hat she always wore and carefully
put on the flowered bodice and violet skirt Mrs. Potter and Buck had
selected for her.
What a change it made, Buck thought briefly, smiling at the memory of
the event. It hadn't been easy, convincing Casey that JD would be just
as impressed at her budding beauty as he would with her knife-throwing
ability; Buck suspected that her down-to-earth aunt, Nettie Wells,
probably didn't have time to fuss over Casey the way that a mother
would, and as a result the girl had likely never had ribbons put in her
hair, or tried perfume, or gone shopping for nice new clothes. Casey
was like her aunt - practical, literal-minded, and straightforward. So,
it hadn't been easy.
But the look on her face! You'd have thought she'd never seen herself
in a looking-glass, the way she stared at herself. It was just like one
of those butterflies coming out of a cocoon, Buck had decided; the way
she kept touching her hair, the delicate bodice, the folds of her wide
skirt, like she was in a dream. And then she'd smiled at him, at Mrs.
Potter, with a smile that would melt your heart, and Buck smiled back,
congratulating himself on his success.
And now his success was shut firmly in the storeroom, and Buck had no
idea what to do.
He approached the door, tried the handle. It was locked. "Miss
Wells?"
"Go away!" Came the angry response from the other side of the door.
Buck looked back; Mrs. Potter was standing in the doorway, the
afternoon sun making an eclipse of her. She had been looking at the
skirt in her hands again, but now she raised her head and looked at
him. He smiled at her lopsidedly before clearing his throat and trying
again. "Miss Wells, that was all my fault, I didn’t - "
"I said go away!!" The girl shouted, and Buck heard a loud thump and
the distinct whapping noise of someone putting on old leather clothes.
Buck winced, caught sight of Mrs. Potter at his elbow. She was still
holding the skirt, and she touched his arm gently and said softly, "Mr.
Wilmington, why don't you let me try?"
"Well - " Buck backed away from the door, rubbed the back of his neck
in thought. "I'd surely appreciate it, Ma'am. I confess I'm not used
to handling girls in a state like she's in."
Mrs. Potter smiled at him and gave him a small push toward the door.
"Just leave it to me. I'll let you know."
Buck nodded assent, and backed the rest of the way out of the shop.
Mrs. Potter watched him go, then sidled back to the storeroom door and
rapped on it.
"Leave me alone!" Casey wailed from the opposite side.
"It's Mrs. Potter, dear," The woman called, "Mr. Wilmington's left."
After a pause, there was the click of the lock, and the door opened a
little. Casey's face, red and tearstreaked, emerged, her hair still
down but with her hat jammed over it. As she opened the door wider,
Mrs. Potter saw that she had yanked her shirt and overalls back on, and
was still trying to hook one strap with her right hand as she opened the
door with her left. Casting a red-rimmed eye toward the door, Casey
sniffed and stammered, "He's gone?"
Mrs. Potter looked at the girl sympathetically. "I told him you
wanted to be alone."
Casey coughed and grabbed her streaming hair in one hand, hunting
around for the rawhide cord she usually used to tie it back with . "It
was a stupid idea anyway."
Mrs. Potter smiled. "You think so?"
Casey nodded violently, finding the cord on the floor and bending to
pick it up. "Should never try to be something I ain't."
"Well, that's true," Mrs. Potter agreed, stepping back as Casey
stomped out of the storeroom. She looked the girl up and down. "So
what are you going to do now?"
Casey looked at the floor, shrugged. "Find Aunt Nettie, I guess."
"Hm. Well, before you do, I've got to stitch up this skirt of
yours..."
Casey sniffed again, looked at the violet bundle as if it was a
rattler. "I don't want it."
Mrs. Potter gave her a mock-stern glare. "Now miss, these are quality
goods I sell here. You own this frock now, and I won't have you leave
here with a damaged product. Now you set over here - " She indicated a
small table and two chairs by the wide store window. "And I'll get my
mending kit."
Casey slumped dejectedly over to the chairs and plopped down,
absently fingering her gently curling hair as Mrs. Potter fished her
mending kit out of a nearby box and came over to sit in the opposite
chair.
There was silence in the room for a moment as Mrs. Potter selected her
needle and thread, but she hadn't completed the first stitch before she
said, "So, I understand you fancy our Mr. Dunne."
Casey looked at her, felt her face grow hot, dropped her eyes so this
nice woman wouldn't see the hurt in them. "I did. Still do, I guess,
but - "
Another stitch. "You don't think you could ever face him again?"
Casey regarded the older woman curiously, nodded, began waving her
hands helplessly, "All I wanted was for him to look at me, pay me some
mind... well, I guess it worked." She finished miserably, "I'll bet he'll
have a good laugh over me now, and then never pay me any mind at all."
"Oh, don't say that so fast," Mrs. Potter soothed, still stitching,
not looking up, "When I was your age, I set my cap for a fella a lot
like your Mr. Dunne, and he didn't pay me any mind either. But I managed
to get his attention."
Casey took off her hat, brushed her hair out of her eyes. "How'd you
do that?"
Mrs. Potter looked up then, her eyes twinkling, and set the sewing
down. "Well, even when I was your age I never had the kind of figure you
see in Godey's Ladies books... you know, the slender-hipped, no waist at
all? I've always been...well, pa called it 'generous'."
Casey smiled, a little.
"Well, anyway, one day this handsome young fella came callin' to pa's
house, 'cause he was a schoolteacher and he often had students come
around. And my dear, the bluest eyes you ever seen, and the thickest
blond hair!" Mrs. Potter fluttered her eyelids dramatically. "I was gone
in an instant."
Casey smiled, blushed a little and looked down. "JD's got nice eyes
too," she muttered.
"Then you know what I mean. Turned my knees to butter! Anyway, my pa
invited this boy to supper with us, and of course when I heard that I
thought, he's just got to notice me or I'm just going to die!"
"So I went to my sister Hattie's closet - she was a year older than
me, and built like a willow tree. All her clothes were so tiny and
delicate, and I picked out the smallest-waisted one I could find and
begged Hattie to lace up my corset so I could fit into it. Well, she
said I was crazy, she had a nineteen-inch waist, and even on my best
days I couldn't get below twenty-five. But I just knew I had to fit
into that dress." Mrs. Potter paused, and picked up the sewing again.
After a pause Casey asked, "So what'd you do?"
Mrs. Potter smiled again. "Well, it could the two of us half an hour,
but by the time cook rang the dinner bell I was in Hattie's dress. I
couldn't breathe, and Lord only knows how I thought I was gonna get any
food down, but when I came down those winding stairs and saw the look in
that boy's blue eyes I knew I had done the right thing. He was looking
at the smallest waist he'd ever seen."
Casey nodded, enthralled.
"Well, we sat down to dinner, and Hattie is watching me like a hawk
because she knew the state I was in. When dinner came I could hardly
eat a bite, but all the while this handsome young man was staring at me
so hard I thought he’d put a hole right through me. And papa saw it
too."
Casey leaned forward, scrunching her hat.
"I was so busy being flirtatious that I didn't notice it at first, but
just after the second course I realized I was feeling a little dizzy. I
tried to ignore it, but the fact was my corset was so tight I wasn't
drawing a full breath. Ten seconds later I knew if I didn't get away
from that table I was going to faint into the green peas."
Casey's young eyes widened.
"I tried to think of a good reason to excuse myself, and Hattie too,
so she could loosen my stays just a little, but I was gettin' so foggy
nothing was coming, and finally in a panic I just got up and headed for
the door!" Mrs. Potter laughed at the memory, then added, "I didn't make
it, though. Passed out before I'd taken three steps."
Casey clapped a hand over her mouth, aghast. "Then what happened?"
"Well, I came to in Hattie's room. She'd gotten the dress and the
corset off me, and looked like she thought I was going to die. I asked
her what had happened, and she told me I'd jumped up from the table like
my hair was on fire, then tumbled over backwards right in front of
everybody." Mrs. Potter leaned forward and whispered, "They'd just
started making hoopskirts then, and apparently my pantalets were exposed
to all and sundry."
Casey grinned sympathetically, and looked down.
"Well. I thought I was going to die from embarassment. I was just
positive that my blue-eyed Romeo thought I was the biggest fool since
Fulton, and I never wanted to leave that room again. But do you know
what that varmint did?"
Casey shook her head.
"He sent a dozen flowers to my father's house, for me, and a note
sayin' when I recovered he wanted to see me. Well, what could I do?
Hattie refused to ever lace me that tight again, so I finally decided he
was just going to have to be content with me the way I was. I received
him in my pa's parlor in my nicest twenty-five-inch waist dress and my
brightest smile. Of course, my heart was sinking the whole time because
I didn't know what he was going to say to me."
"What did he say?"
Mrs. Potter smiled at the memory. "We sat down on pa's settee, and he
looked me straight in the eye and said, 'Miss Harper' - that was my
maiden name - 'If I may be so bold as to say, you have the prettiest
eyes I've ever seen, and everything else for that matter. I wanted to
see you again because when I saw you the other night I had the feelin'
that wasn't the real you, and after your spell I came to the conclusion
that what had happened was the real you was tryin' to get out but got
stuck tryin' to get through that tiny little opening around your waist.'"
Casey laughed.
"Well, he didn't have a real delicate way of puttin' it, but what he
was sayin' was he didn't want me to be killin' myself trying to be
something I wasn't . I'm never going to be one of those skinny little
things, and he thought that was just fine. He always said I was a lot
easier to have a conversation with when I wasn't passing out."
Casey smiled again, fingered her hair. "Then what happened?"
Mrs. Potter tilted her head. "Why, after a spell he asked me to marry
him, of course! And I didn't hesitate to say yes."
Casey looked at the older woman in awe and reverence.
"Now," Mrs. Potter held up the skirt waist, nicely mended, "You've
heard my tale, what do you say we see what we can do about your
predicament. I'm not sayin' Mr. Wilmington's idea wasn't a good one, but
I'm guessin' it's not something you'd want to do every day."
Casey shook her head again, then added, "I did like the look on JD's
face though. Like he thought I was pretty."
"Well, there!" Mrs. Potter enthused. "Now, we've done both extremes.
We just have to find a you place in the middle."
(This scene goes at the end of the episode.)
The afternoon sun was bright as Buck and JD rode their horses down the
main street of Four Corners.
"Looks like things are gonna settle down right quick now that Guy
Royal is out of business," JD commented as they slowed down in front of
the jailhouse.
"Oh, don't be so sure of that, JD," Buck said confidently as he
stopped his horse, but remained in the saddle. He glanced to his side.
"Here in the wild west, danger could be lurking around any corner."
JD laughed as he dismounted his horse. "Dang, Buck, you're startin' to
sound like a dime novel."
"Am I!" His friend grinned.
"Yeah," JD laughed again, and stepped up onto the porch that led to
the jail.
THWIPP!!
JD jumped and looked down. There, still vibrating in the boards, a
penknife jutted up at him, its handle pointing behind him.
Startled, JD turned around. There, standing in the middle of the
street, was Casey, not dressed in her trademark overalls, and not in a
dress either, but in a comfortable-looking jersey shirt and a wide,
softly folded skirt that reached to just below the top of her boots,
which were planted defiantly wide. Her hair was out of the ponytail and
blowing gently around her shoulders. Smiling daringly at JD from under
her beaten-up hat, she flipped her hair out of her eyes , set her hands
on her hips and said, "You still too scared to race me?"
JD just stared at her and stammered, "Wh - "
Casey unplanted her boots and without a pause strode forward past JD
and plucked her penknife out of the boards. Then she stood up, just
inches from his face, and gazed into his hazel eyes. Softly she
growled, "Thought so."
Buck suppressed a laugh as the girl turned on her heel and lilted
away, glancing over her shoulder to see the effect of her performance.
JD stood there a moment, his mouth hanging open, and grimaced at the
retreating vision in wonder and confusion. Finally, he stuttered,
"Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"What do I do?"
Buck did laugh then, and thought, God, I was young once, "Well, hell, boy, what do you want to do?"
JD looked at Buck, then at Casey, who was just turning the corner,
then back at Buck.
He was still looking when Buck decided perhaps he'd better leave them
alone, and quietly turning his horse trotted back the way he'd come.
When he risked a look over his shoulder a moment later, JD was gone.
Damn, he thought, all that worldly wisdom I've imparted wasted, and he
rode to the edge of town.
Buck was still sitting there, on his horse, wondering if JD had hidden
in the jailhouse or the saloon, when he heard the rapid pounding of
hoofbeats behind him, mingled with hoarse shouts. He barely had time to
turn in his saddle before two horses and their riders shot past him in a
whirl of dust and grit, and as they passed him he heard JD and Casey
screaming affectionate insults to each other at the top of their lungs.
Dang, he thought as he watched the pair tear off toward the sunset, I
know what I'm doing after all. Exuberant, he stood in the saddle,
whipped off his hat and shouted after his friend, "Do me proud, son! I'm
countin' on you now!! DON'T FORGET WHAT I TAUGHT YOU!!!" And, lifting
his hat, Buck tore a magnificent western yell into the painted sky.
The End
